


One Night When Gant Met Candlejack

by zetsubou_hana (Sakura_no_Miko)



Category: Freakazoid (Cartoon), Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, CandleJack - Freeform, Crack, Crossover, Inventing new tags, Kink Meme, M/M, Meme, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-23
Updated: 2008-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakura_no_Miko/pseuds/zetsubou_hana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One would hardly expect the elite Chief Gant, known far and wide for his skill in manipulation, mental torture, and winning “consensual” sex out of the most reluctant of quarry as a fan of children’s cartoons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night When Gant Met Candlejack

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://teagueful.livejournal.com/11393.html?thread=1821569#t1821569) at the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme:  
>  _GUYS GUYS GUYS_
> 
> _GANT x CANDLEJACK_
> 
> _SRSLY. MAYBE WITH A BONDAGE KINK._

One would hardly expect the elite Chief Gant, known far and wide for his skill in manipulation, mental torture, and winning “consensual” sex out of the most reluctant of quarry as a fan of children’s cartoons. 

He smothered a laugh, then another, and went to sleep dreaming of knife blades in pockets and soft flesh that trembled, for these were a few of his favorite things.

He was having a lovely dream. He called in that nervous intern who served his coffee. “Ah, Smithy-boy,” he said with a grin, “Do me a favor, will you?” He teeth gleamed manically as he pushed a piece of paper into the nervous boy’s hands. “Just say the name out loud.”

The boy looked at him nervously. Strange, he thought for a moment, he’d remembered hiring a bold and confident young man. Surely that tiny thing with the forged evidence and the blackmail hadn’t scared him…?

“Can…candle. Jack. Candlejack.” He looked around nervously.

It took less than a second.

“Gah!” he yelled, as the rope appeared out of nowhere and looped around his neck.

Gant’s eyes lit up. He was real! He was really here! That ghastly grin, those glowing eyes, that _rope_!

Gant jumped up and grabbed the phantom, wrapping the length of robe around his hooded neck. “You’re mine,” he said triumphantly. “Oh, and lock the door,” he added to the fleeing intern.

It had been too easy. Why had no one else ever thought to lay a trap for the ghost before summoning him?

The rope was infinite and deliciously soft. Probably so he wouldn’t damage their pretty little necks. The phantom was yielding, just grinning at him through the mask, expressionless. His body flattened against the large desk, and his arms and legs went lax as Gant tied tiny, expert knots of rope around each limb, slowly, affectionately even. How he had dreamed of this!

His fingers went to the mask, soft as silk, tracing the face underneath…whatever it was. His fingers itched, for a moment, to bare whatever was hidden beneath. A skull, perhaps? The face of Death itself grinning at him? Or maybe the face of a beautiful angel, cursed to forever don the mask for some hideous sin he committed.

The sin of lust, perhaps? Pride? Beautiful Wrath?

His hands traced the rest of the body. What would it be like to conquer this creature? The phantom no one had ever named and lived to tell the tale? Where did he take those lucky or unlucky souls? Hell? Heaven? 

His lips caressed the grinning, painted mask. Was there a body, hard, waiting, beneath these clothes? Beautiful, virgin thighs (did ghosts need to have sex? Who knew…) and a hard, thick erection? (There was no way this thing was female. Heh. Heheh.) He ached to plunge between those legs, feel the unconquerable ghost take him into his hot, tight body.

He barely noticed the creep of a rope along his back until it was too late. 

His body slammed back against the chair, ropes crisscrossing all over his body, tying his arms behind him and splaying his legs apart. The roped edged into his clothing, and one thick knot was slowly being pulled but the tightening of the rope, lower and lower, until it was just kissing the bulge in his pants…and suddenly pressing harder.

The phantom rose from the table, grinned, and continued to pull the rope.

It moved slowly, seductively towards him, little pulls making that hard knot dig into his erection, then loosen. Digging painfully, and disappearing. The phantom came to rest, leaning a leg over each side of the chair and dragging his own hardness (Oh. Hoho. Gant laughed mentally. Definitely a male! Right as always) against the length of rope between them.

The pleasure was exquisite. Even if this ghost did have the ‘upper hand’ (and even that was quite a stretch, Gant remarked to himself), he was obviously enthralled with Gant’s manly physique, desperately rubbing himself, begging for Gant’s own large, hard cock inside him. Hehe. Not even Jacky-boy could resist him.

The swear on his brow began to slow. He’d been worried there, for a moment. 

He would fuck this phantom like there was no tomorrow. But first, ah, the lovely, lovely friction that was building in his groin. Gloved hands undid his belt, his zipper, and that knot moved out of the way, freeing him to shudder and jerk against the phantom’s body. He would splash his hot semen all over those pristine clothes and make the phantom beg for it. Oh, hoho.

He screamed as the friction made him burst. “Candlejack!”

Gant awoke in his bed, pleasure coursing through his body, the sheets — ugh — damp with sweat and semen.

He reached up to unbutton the shirt he was wearing, and his fingers brushed over something. Coarse, and rough, not at all like he’d imagined. Something to kill with…or kidnap.

He felt the rope around his neck. A pair of eyes and a large grin glowed in the dark of his bedroom.

“NO!” he shouted as realization dawned on him. “I didn’t say it! It was in the dream!” He looked around desperately. “It wasn’t conscious. You can’t! I DIDN’T SA — ”

__

And the moral of this story, children, is never to say “Candlejack,” as poor Chief Gant has le —

**Author's Note:**

> Oddly enough, Gant's case was the only one I hadn't played when I wrote this.


End file.
